My Newsies Come to Visit
by VividInfinity
Summary: two in the morning on the night before the last day of school before winter break. I was dancing to Carrying the Banner in my pajamas. WHO DARES INTERRUPT MY DANCING! Apparently the newsies themselves :S
1. Surprise, Surprise

I smiled and pranced around wildly. I was dancing in my room in my pajamas.

I was dancing to Carrying the Banner.

As a devout worshipper of Newsies, I was spending the night before the last day of school shut up in my room, singing along and dancing to the gorgeous sound of my newsies on my CD player. Sort of as a "good luck" thing, if you will.

As the only person up at two in the morning, not a good thing when school is in four hours, I was the only one to hear the soft knock at the door.

I frowned. What kind of a person was awake at this hour (other than me, of course), and more importantly, why were they disrupting my dancing? Only opening the door would answer this, so I shrugged on a sweater, grabbed my slippers, and ran down the stairs as silently as I could.

The house was pitch black, but I'd lived here my whole life, so I knew that as soon as I stepped off the half flight of stairs, I turned to the left and took five steps.

Flipping a switch to turn the light on outside, I opened the door.

I know it was a stupid thing to do, open the door at two in the morning to a complete stranger, but keep in mind; I was half delirious, high on Newsies.

That's why I thought I was hallucinating when I opened the door to find the three Jacobs, Cowboy himself, Racetrack, Kid Blink, Mush, and Spot Conlon on my doorstep.

"Holy crap, I've finally lost it," I murmured.

Racetrack asked me, "Hey, doll, sorry ta ask, but could ya tell us wheah we are?" He pulled out a cigar and lit it.

"Um, Bethesda Maryland," I said, a bit dazed. This had happened before, in books, and in my imagination, but it never happened in real life. That was what real life was about, after all, that things that happen in books never happen in real life.

The newsies looked at each other. Sarah bit her lip. She, true to her character, clutched a doily, and wore perfect hair and make up.

"Jeez, I've died and gone to heaven. " I muttered to myself, examining the characters in front of me. Straight out of a book, never mind that it was a movie. No, these characters were book-worthy, and it was just like something that would happen in a book, that people from twenty years ago in a movie that took place a hundred years ago.

I looked at Les, who wasn't even nervous. He just looked around him, a bit dazed, and slightly confused, but otherwise quiet and almost not there, like he was in the movie.

Cowboy, on the other hand, was an outspoken jackass. And yes, that was meant to be a slight pun to his name.

I stared at him, as he asked, "Who're you?"

"Name's Lucy Conlon," I said, then laughed at the horrified look on Spot's face. "It's my fanfiction name, and I'm not giving you my real one until you explain why you're on my doorstep in the middle of December."

"Thought it was colder," Blink muttered.

"Please, Lucy," Sarah said, a Mary Sue true to the bone. "We need help. We have no idea what's going on."

I rolled my eyes. "God save me from the Mary Sues of the world." I muttered. "Well, wait here for a sec," I said, and slammed the door in the faces of six gorgeous boys, one cute kid, and a stinking Mary Sue.

"Jess," I whisper-screamed once I reached her room. "Jess, get the hell out of bed!" I hissed, ripping the blankets off her.

"What gives, Kat?" My sister, Jessica demanded crossly. She was two years younger than me, a seventh grader, while I was a freshman. "It's the middle of the night!"

"10 out of 10 for observation," I told her. "Grab a sweater, Spot Conlon's on the doorstep."

"What the fuck, Katherine?" She demanded, sitting up. "Gabriel Damon's in his thirties."

"Tell that to the leader of Brooklyn," I said. "I slammed the door in his face. Sarah's there, too, and you can tell her about your hatred for doilies."

"Like hell, I'll tell her, and she'll punch a hole in the wall trying to hit me." Jess said.

"You can tell Cowboy you don't like his girlfriend, now put it on!" I told her, shoving a sweater at her.

"Christian Bale too?" she asked incredulously, "Who else?"

"Cowboy, Spot, Racetrack, Kid Blink, Mush, David, and Sarah," I answered, ticking them off my fingers, "Oh, and Les."

She gasped and got up, starting to say something but I stopped her, "And before you ask, no, we are under no condition waking Mike up."

"Damn," Jess muttered. "He and Les would've hit the wall."

"More like burned the house down," I said, and Jess and I ran out the door, as she put on her sweater.

Outside, Cowboy looked pissed. I guess he didn't get doors slammed in his face often.

"Boys," I said, then added with a glance at Sarah, "Mary Sue," I gestured to my sister. "This is my sister, Jessica,"

For an answer, Jess's eyes widened as she stared at the newsies, and when her eyes rested upon the king of Brooklyn, she squealed and flung herself at him. Unlike me, apparently she responded with outward fangirlness, whereas I had been numb with surprise and shock.

Then, she let go of him, and Spot began to pull his slingshot out, a natural reaction, I suppose, in Brooklyn. But Jess was already moving on to squeeze Cowboy in a death grip, and then grab Racetrack's cigar, fling it over her shoulder, and hug him, too.

Then she squealed and attacked Blink and Mush, too.

Then she stopped and stared at the Jacobs.

"Holy crap, it's David Moscow," She said, gaping, and I laughed. I closed the door behind me, because otherwise my mom and dad would wake up and have a fit.

"Like hell it's David Moscow," I said, snorting. "It's the Walkin' Mouth."

Jess shrieked, and pounced.

Sarah looked stunned. Les was staring a Jess like she was some kind of alien spawn. Then, he quickly lost interest, and assumed his standard background cuteness.

"Omigosh," Breathed Jess, noticing Les for the first time, "YOU'RE ADORABLE!" She swooped on him, too, but this time instead of a crazy-fangirl-attacking hug, it was an older-sister-loving-your-cuteness hug, like the ones she sometimes gives Michael when he's acting especially naïve and innocent.

"Jeez, Jess, let them breathe." I said, pulling her off the nearly-ten-year-old. "Okay," I said, pulling my attention back to the newsies and company. "My mom and dad are fast asleep, my brother's conked out, there's seven newsies and a Mary Sue on my doorstep, my sister's going nuts, and it's 2011."

Conlon blinked.

"Doll, are you crazy?" Racetrack demanded.

"It's up for debate," Jess put in.

I pushed her aside. "Call it what you will, but like it or not, Higgins, you're stuck in the twenty-first century. Deal with it, and get yourself some jeans."

"And lose the cig," Jess said. "It's unhealthy, and unfashionable."

"Like hell, it ain't." Racetrack said.

"Ohmigod, Doogie Howser flashback," Jess said, eyes wide.

"Jess, take a chill pill, Neil Patrick Harris isn't here." I said. Then I added thoughtfully, "If he was, we'd be squealing over him, too."

"Valid point," Jess commented.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Conlon demanded.

"Doogie Howser," I said, as if he should've already known this. "Duh."

"Oh, damn, he doesn't have pink suspenders," Jess said, pointing at Spot.

"I know, unfortunate, right?" I told her. "But at least he has the red ones he's supposed to."

"What the hell're we doin' heah?" Blink demanded.

I cocked my head at him. "Good question. It's freezing out, good night," I said, and yanked my sister back inside, shutting the door behind me.

Giggling frantically, we both huddled behind the door, learning a few new curses from Race.

"Let me talk to them," we heard Sarah volunteer

"Oh damn, she's gonna make us a doily!" Jess whispered, and I shushed her.

"Fine." The other newsies agreed.

Sarah cautiously opened the door, as if she was afraid we were waiting with a frying pan for her to step over the threshold.

"Yeah?" I asked. She jumped, then settled.

I raised an eyebrow. "Jeez, Jacobs, I'm not gonna hit ya. I may like the newsies, but I don't hit like they do."

"Please, Lucy—" Sarah began, but Jess cut her off.

"You gave them your fanfiction name?" Her eyes widened. "Ohmigod, Conlon must've freaked."

"He did." I told her, grinning wickedly.

"Please, Lucy," Sarah began again. "We're in the middle of nowhere, in December, and we have no idea what to do. Can't you help us?"

Jess and I traded looks. We knew we were helping them, but we liked to play Spot Conlon and pretend to be heartless.

"Fine, Jacobs, we'll help you," I said.

Ushering the seven boys and one girl into the dark house, we worked something out with sleeping arrangements for the night.

"They can sleep in my room" Jess offered, jumping up and down eagerly. I shook my head.

"Are you kidding, it's way too small." I said, "Anyway, there is no way I'm letting you sleep in a room full of hot boys by yourself."

Everyone grinned at that, except Sarah, because I guess they didn't teach Health and Family Life in 1899 schools.

"Well, then where are we gonna put them?" Jess asked exasperated.

"Couch?" I suggested. Jess shook her head frantically.

"Mom wi"ll freak if she finds a bunch of strange street boys sleeping on her precious furniture in the morning.

But we eventually worked something out.

I was glad that my room wasn't too messy, and relatively organized, a miracle in itself.

Cowboy, Blink, Mush, Racetrack, and Spot slept in my room. I would've had some of the boys in my brother Mike's room, but he was fast asleep, and he would've had a panic attack if he'd woken up with Spot Conlon at the foot of his bed.

Sarah and Les and David slept in Jess's room, because it was agreed that there was some space in her room, and that maybe it would be better to have the family together.

I managed to get three and a half hours of decent sleep, dreamless and deep in my brother's room with Jess next to me.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of boys yelling, and I thanked God that my parents left for work early in the morning.

Getting out of bed, I found my brother still half asleep, because the kid could sleep through an avalanche, and my sister with her pillow over her head, muttering a bunch of threats at the boys in the other room. Great.

I ran into my bedroom, where I found the boys huddled and yelling over my alarm clock, beeping loudly.

"Hit it with something!" Someone suggested, I think it was Blink.

"No, it might break it!" Mush protested.

"No one gives a damn, Meyers, long as it shuts up," Racetrack told him.

"I give a damn," I announced loudly. "Because that clock is how I wake up every morning.

"Then turn it off!" Cowboy yelled.

I calmly strode over, and pressed a button on the back of the clock. The clock stopped beeping, and the boys quieted, some flopping back onto their sleeping bags.

"What the hell was that?" Conlon asked.

"That, Spotty dear," I said. "Was an alarm clock. It's the modern equivalent of a Kloppman nowadays."

The boys stared at it. "Evil," Someone hissed.

I smiled, and ran out of the room, yelling behind me, "Jacobs, get up or we'll get you up!"

I shook my brother awake, yelling, "Mike, get up! Racetrack's here to beat your ass at poker!"

"_Nobody_ can beat my ass at poker!" Mike groaned at me.

"Well, I bet Race can, and you can join Les in worshipping Cowboy, now get _up_!"

I threw a pillow up his head.

"I'm not getting up from this bed!"

"Then I'll tell the boys to go back to 1899, and you'll never have met them in the first place." I threatened.

"Stop making things up, this isn't one of your fanfics." Mike told me.

"Would I make up that Racetrack Higgins was yelling at my alarm clock? Get up, damnit!"

Mike sat up bolt upright. I threw his clothes at him.

"Race yelled at your alarm clock?" He demanded.

"Yes," I told him. "And I told Spot my name was Lucy Conlon," I kicked Jess to wake her up. She groaned.

"Yeesh," Mike commented. "Did he spazz?"

I nodded. "Jess, get up, and set an example for your brother."

I changed in my brother's room, and then ran into my own room.

I leaned in the doorway. The boys were running around examining my stuff. My bookshelves were stocked with books, because I loved to read. I read three books a day, literally, and bought plenty, and this was where they all ended up, worn and loved on my bookshelf, until the next time I pulled out a particular favorite.

So Mush and Blink were occupied exclaiming to themselves how they'd never seen so many books.

Then of course, the others had to come over and gawp at my stockpile, and comment on its size.

"My treasure," I told them, and they turned to look at me. I strode over to pull a book out of the bookshelf. "Every page filled with stories and adventure, places far from here." I examine the book, righting a few dog-eared pages, and put it back in the exact same place.

"Why do you read so much?" Mush asked me.

"'Cause I like it," I said, shrugging. I pulled another book out. "Because it gives me other things to think about than what goes on in the real world." I put the book back, and looked at the boys. "I'd think you guys would know about that. You all have your own sob stories, though no one knows that they are. Guess that's why there's so many fanfictions about you all."

"Fanfictions?" Cowboy asked, confused. "What's that?"

I nodded at Spot. "Take Conlon, for example. No one knows a thing about him. Not his name, not his second in command, not even his real age. No one knows a thing about him, and no one knows a thing about his newsies or Brooklyn, so that's what people write about." I strode away, back out the door. "Coming boys? You'll have to get some shopping done if you want to blend in in 2011."

"What for?" Blink muttered.

The door to Jess's room opened, and Sarah appeared.

She gasped at me. "Lucy! What are you wearing?"

I looked down at my outfit. It was fine. Not jeans because I didn't like them, but loose brown pants and a green peasant blouse. My dark hair was brushed long and straight, in a braid beside my face.

"What?" I demanded.

"It's not decent!" Sarah insisted.

"Like hell it ain't," I said. "Everybody wears this."

I looked her over.

I checked my watch. I had time.

So I dragged Sarah into my room and kicked the boys out, yelling, "Jess, show the boys around, and wake Mike up. I'm getting Mary Sue some clothes."

"Nothing from the eighteen hundreds!" Jess yelled back.

"You think I _own_ anything from the eighteen hundreds?" I demanded.

I shut the door, and dove at my dresser.

"How's it you know so much about the boys?" Sarah asked me suddenly.

I tossed her a pair of jeans, the only jeans I owned. She seemed like a popular, and that meant she'd wear jeans.

"Easy, but I'll have to explain it later." I told her, putting off explanations.

"And why do you call me Mary Sue? What's a Mary Sue?" Sarah asked. She fingered the jeans, examining the denim.

"A Mary Sue is a girl like you," Hey that rhymes. "A girl who needs people to take care of her. A girl who, while her brothers are out on the street selling papers to make a living, is making doilies and stuffing them in drawer."

"What have you got against people taking care of others?" Sarah asked me.

I threw her a T-shirt that read, _WHAT PART OF "GO AWAY" DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?_ She could go without style for a day.

"Nothing, but I got something against punching alley walls. Can't be good for the skin at all." I said, and left her to change. "Change quick, because I have to go to school."

Closing the door behind me, I turned to find Les waiting for me. True to his character, he clutched a wooden sword.

"You go to school?" He asked.

"Sure do, kid," I said. "Not a bad student either."

"Is school nice here?" Les asked me, and I found his older brother and friends watching me, waiting for my answer.

"It's okay. It goes from seven to around three o'clock." I told them. "And lots of homework." I looked back at Les. "How bout you? You got homework?"

He shook his head. "I don't go to school, not until my dad gets his job back."

I nodded. "Lucky kid. I have to go every day, five days a week."

Coming out of Mike's room, Jess added, "It's no picnic neither."

"Who are you guys talking to?" Mike demanded, following behind Jess.

He stopped short, seeing the newsies and Sarah.

"Holy crap, Kat, it's contagious." Mike said. He stared at Racetrack. "Max Casella." Mush. "Aaron Lohr." Kid Blink. "Trey Parker." David. "David Moscow." Les. "Luke Edwards." Jack. "Christian Bale." Spot. "Gabriel Damon." Sarah. "And Mary Sue."

"Pretty much," I said. "Mike, since you don't have school today, you get to watch them."

"We don't need a sitter!" David told me crossly as Sarah asked, "Why doesn't he have school?"

"He's younger so his school let out earlier." I said. "And you do need a sitter if you want to survive in 2011."

I ran downstairs, the everyone followed. Our dog, a Mini Goldendoodle, jumped up and barked, then raced for the boys, jumping on top of Racetrack.

"Jack! Jack, it's a wolf, get it off me!" He yelled. The dog moved on to

Jess fell over laughing, and Mike fell on top of her.

"That's Sam," I said. "He's our dog."

Racetrack stared at me like I was nuts. "Where'd ya get 'im, Central Park Zoo?"

"No, silly, South Carolina." I told him. "The breeder's there. And we also have a hamster, Ash, but he doesn't come out much. I'll show him to you later."

Sam jumped up on Spot, who knocked him aside with his cane.

"What the hell?" Jess demanded, petting Sam. "He's only a puppy."

Spot was about to open his mouth to speak, but I grabbed his cane.

"This isn't Brooklyn, Conlon, and you don't hit people here."

I let go of the cane, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Everyone sat at the large table.

"So how much money do you have between you all?" Jess asked. "You're gonna need new clothes here."

The boys looked at one another, and pulled money out of their pockets, hundreds of coins.

I grabbed two milk cartons and some paper cups, because we didn't have enough glasses. I set the cups and milk in the middle, and Mush and Race and Blink dived for them.

I checked the clock. I had time.

God, I was tired. Four hours of sleep is not good for the health. But I made bacon for the newsies, and scrambled eggs. Like every morning, I also got strawberries and whipped cream for Mike, and an omelet for Jess, then tossed the dog a treat.

I brought the food to the table, and everyone dug in. Evidently, no one had taught the newsies manners, but I guess they didn't need them. I went back to the kitchen and brought out a carton of orange juice and a pitcher of water.

Jess and Mike were counting the money, each counting half.

"I've got three bucks and thirty-four cents." Mike said. "You?"

"Five bucks and ninety-one cents." Jess said.

The boys looked at each other, grinning, because in 1899 it was no doubt a lot of money.

"That's not much here," I said. "Guess how much a paperback book costs?"

"Around five dollars," Jess told the boys. "More or less depending on how popular, how long, how interesting it is, where you get it, that sort of thing."

"Five bucks?" Race demanded.

"Don't worry," I said. "Knowing you, Race, you'll beat everyone out of their live savings soon enough."

"Valid point," Mike said with a smile. Then it faded. "But what do we do for clothes for the guys?"

"Well, I bet your clothes'll fit Les," I said, "And Sarah can share my clothes and Jess's."

"We have our suspenders and stuff from our newsies Halloween outfits." Jess put in.

"And some of Dad's old shoes might fit," Mike put in.

"And we'll have to buy the rest," I finished. "Jess, Mike, go get your wallets and piggy banks." They ran off, and I yelled after them, "And the money under your mattress!"

I sat down, and grabbed a piece of toast from Jess's plate. My money was in my purse, hanging over my shoulder, like it always was.

I looked up to find everyone staring at me.

"You're weird," Les observed. "You wear funny clothes and talk strange."

"Les, be polite," Sarah admonished. She turned to me. "He means—"

"I know what he means," I said lightly. "He's never met anyone like me. Well, Les, that's because you lived in 1899. We'll find a way to get you back there, but until then you're stuck here, and you're going to have to blend in."

"And how much will blending in cost," David asked.

I shrugged. "For all of you together, a lot. But Jess and Mike and I will pitch in and help."

At that moment, Jess and Mike ran in, and tossed two piggy banks, three wallets, and a giant pile of coins and dollar bills into the middle of the table.

"Count it, would you?" I told Jess. "I've gotta get my stuff."

Jess nodded, and I ran for my room.

I grabbed my Nook Color, my cell phone, and my three library books I had to return before break. Then I put on a sweater and grabbed my backpack stuffed with two binders, three textbooks, my gym clothes, and a book.

Downstairs, I grabbed my combat boots, hopping back towards the table with one shoe on and struggling with the other.

I grabbed my newsie cap off a hook, and laced up my combat boots. Ready for the day.

"How much in total?" I asked. I knew I had around thirty bucks to spare.

"Including money from the boys," Jess said, and Mike finished,

"We've got ninety dollars and eighty-one cents."

"Boys," I turned to the newsies. "You're going shopping."

They paled.

"What's wrong wit' what we got?" Blink demanded.

"Yeah, we got clothes," Mush said.

"You can wear them today," I told them, "Because we still need to ask our parents if you can stay, but you're going to need clothes anyway, whether you stay or not."

I checked the clock.

"Holy crap, I'm late!" I grabbed my stuff, then hesitated. "You guys wanna come? I'm going to school,"

The boys looked at each other.

In the end, the Jacobs siblings, Cowboy, and Spot came, because Mike wanted Race to play poker with him, and Jess was busy showing off her Mac to Mush and Kid Blink.

I heard her tell Blink, "You're going to have to do something about that eyepatch."

I smiled. This could get interesting.

_**Author's Note: This story is beta-ed/ co-written by my sister and friends, and my brother.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, Dougie Howser,Central Park Zoo, Nook Color, or Mac.**_

_**Tragic, I know.**_

_**Plz plz plz review, and I know this concept has been used before, but I wanted to try it out with Senora de la Mary Sue in it as well as the newsies.**_


	2. Cat

**Okay.**

**SORRY, WORLD!**

**My sister, who is very slow but thorough, took a million years to beta this chapter, because she was busy with something else. I might even tell you all if she says.**

**Yeah, I know, you all hate me for taking a bajillion years, but here you are!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

Getting to the bus stop was easy.

I had no intention of taking the newsies to school, but I wanted to get to the bus stop and see everyone stare.

The walk to the bus stop was epic, because the newsies and Sarah were staring at everything we passed. I lived in a suburban neighborhood, and this meant that everywhere we looked there were trees, houses two stories tall, and worse, cars. I mean, trees and all the other stuff were bad enough, considering they're from New York, but cars? That's pushing limits.

Cars of every color, and it's hard to explain to people from 1899 the mechanics of a SmartCar or a BMW.

We walked down the street, and took a left to the next corner.

Somewhere along the way to the bus stop, David asked me,

"How much, exactly, has everything changed since 1899?"

I considered it. A long, in fact, too much in my opinion.

"Well, there were the World Wars, World War I and World War II," I said. The newsies looked stunned. "The kids got rights, thanks to you guys." They grinned at each other. "Women got the right to vote," I continued, and was about to list more when David said, "No!" in shock.

"Yes!" I retorted. "Women've got as much right to votes as men," I told him. "More than that, I guess, because the women are the ones with power,"

They looked at me, and Conlon asked, "How? Pulitzer ain't a woman. Hearst ain't, Gammon ain't."

"But you're thinking small," I told them. "That's just the 1899 newspapers. Take world history for example. The first woman ambassador in Europe, Catalina de Aragon." I began to list names, even if they hadn't happened yet to the newsies. "Madame de Pompadour, the mistress of Louis XV and who brought art to France. Cleopatra VII, femme fatale and a player in the game of power."

Conlon interrupted me, scowling, "But that's history, princess. Were askin' what's _changed_."

I sighed impatiently. "I'm getting there, Spot. 'Member, this isn't 1899 Brooklyn, and your not king anymore. This is_ my_ turf now." He glared at me. The other boys snickered at the sight of him being reprimanded by a girl. I smirked in satisfaction. "Now as I was saying…

"For example, Amelia Earheart, first woman to fly across the Atlantic. That was in, like, the 1930's. Coco Chanel, brought about the change in women's styles from restriction to comfort. Lady Gaga, _the_ _most _avant-garde woman of this generation. Nicki Minaj, too, and Katy Perry and Selena Gomez and Mariah Carey, and Glee's singers."

The newsies peppered me with questions. Who were all those people? What the hell was Glee? And who was Lady Gaga?

I answered all the questions, and promised to tutor them in world history, so they could be up to date on all that had changed.

When we were in earshot of the bus stop, I saw everyone look up.

After all, I didn't normally come to the bus stop trailed by people out of a movie.

There weren't many people there, just seven other people in my grade, and a few others older than that.

Well, I guess that could be considered a nice amount.

But the thing is, two of those people had been coerced by me and Jess and Mike into watching Newsies.

"Hey, guys," I said, to my friends there. "These are some people visiting."

"Thanks for that," Jack murmured behind me, and Sarah elbowed him.

"This is David Jacobs," I said to everyone who stared. "And his little brother Les, and their sister Sarah." I turned to Cowboy. "This is Francis Sullivan," I said smugly, and Cowboy glared at me. Conlon snorted, and I turned to him. "And this is . . ." I trailed off, because I wasn't sure what to call him.

After all, I couldn't introduce him as Spot Conlon, the King of Brooklyn.

"Max," He said. "Max Conlon," I wasn't sure if he was joking about that being his real name or not, but my friends that had read my fanfiction, Sparks of Brooklyn, their eyes widened.

"Wait," My friend Catherine said. Yeah, I know. My name's Katherine, hers is Catherine, yah yah yah. That's why I'm called Kat and she's called Cat, because I don't look like a Katherine or a Catherine, just like a Kat, and not a Cat either. It's complicated. Anyway, Cat came forward, to peer at Cowboy.

She took his cheeks between her fingers, and stretched it this way and that, because that was what they did in the movies.

The thing you've got to understand about Cat is that she's weird.

I mean like, really weird.

She wears neon pink and blue striped legwarmers on her arms, and paints her nails black. She wears serious mascara, and her daily makeup routine is dark purple eyeshadow, or sometimes pink or orange, with matching lipstick, depending on her day's outfit. Her hair is dark brown, nearly black, and she dyed red highlights into it.

Today she wore combat boots like mine, a backwards black newsie cap colored all over with neon fabric markers, a dark black tank top with a jean jacket also scribbled with neon marker, and a hot pink skirt with black fishnet leggings.

Meet Catherine Howard, and yes that is her real name. Catherine Howard in the fourteen hundreds was the wife of Henry the Eighth, the one who had an obsession with having a son to inherit the throne. She couldn't give him that, so he had her executed.

Catherine Howard in 2011 is very different.

For one, she is a Drama Queen, with a capital D and Q. She is in the drama club and has been in almost every school play since kindergarten. She believes in free speech, which means she says anything she wants, and she says it with drama.

Cat's one of the biggest anti-bullying activists in our grade. She's got a smart mouth, which is why I always thought of her as a newsie, and I believe she could sell papers better than anybody I know.

Cat and I met in kindergarten, when she came to school for Halloween as a belly-dancer. A Goth belly dancer. The teacher said the costume was too exposing.

I went as a pirate girl, with a costume similar to Cat's, so the teacher banished us together to the corner of the class.

There, we sang stupid songs we learned off movies. You know, A Pirate's Life For Me from Pirates of the Carribean, and things like that.

Since then, Cat and I have been friends, and so I knew her well enough to let her vigorously twist the face of one of the most gorgeous boys in the movie.

"Oh my god," Cat said thoughtfully, still twisting Cowboy's face around. "You look just like Christian Bale."

"Boys, Sarah, this is my friend Cat, with a C," I said. "Cat, my friends."

"Why're they dressed like that?" Someone demanded. He had obviously never seen Newsies.

"Um, a play," I said as Spot opened his mouth. "Conlon, put the cane away." I ordered firmly without looking at him.

"Hey, Max," a boy asked, coming over. "Can you use that?" He nodded at the slingshot that hung at Conlon's belt.

That seemed to break the spell. Everyone came over, the popular girls immediately set to fawning over Les and talking like old friends with Sarah. The boys, watched as Spot demonstrated his skill with the slingshot by shooting the stop sign.

I smiled at the edge of all the commotion. Cat came to stand beside me.

"Out of the movie?" she asked.

"Yup,"

"Middle of the night?"

"Yup,"

"You gave them your fanfiction name?"

"Yup,"

"Classy." She said nodding. "You taking them shopping later? 'Cause their never gonna seem like normal kids in those clothes."

I shrugged. "I need to ask my mom later to see if I can keep them."

"How do you think they'll react when they see a bunch of hot guys-and a Mary Sue from your favorite movie sitting on your couch?" she asked, raising and eyebrow

"Considering that Sarah makes doilies, I'm gonna guess that she and my mom will have a field day," I said, "But the boys, I don't know."

Cat snorted. "If you can't, send them over to my place." She eyed Cowboy. "I like the look of Batman over there."

"He's taken,"

"I know, I saw the movie. But I wonder if Sarah would come up with better insults if I stole her boyfriend?" Cat pondered.

"Maybe she'll call you a stupid orangutan?" I suggested.

The bus came around the corner.

Cat smirked as no one noticed. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "Hey guys, the bus is here!"

I smiled.

She began to walk to the bus, following the stream of teens feeding into the large yellow vehicle. She stopped when I didn't follow. "Coming or cutting?" she asked, wondering if I was going to skip class.

"Just a sec, I wanna check something," I said, and Cat nodded.

I went over to the newsies and Sarah, who looked stunned and a bit rumpled.

I took out a piece of notebook paper from my pocket and a pencil. I wrote down my cell phone number, and passed it to Cowboy.

"This is my cell phone number—don't ask, Mike or Jess will explain—for if there's an emergency." I said. "You guys can find your way back, right?" they nodded. "Okay, well, tell Mike there's sandwiches for lunch, and he can't touch the stove." I thought hard. I was missing something. "Tell Mike to get Les some clothes, and to explain the video games and stuff." I headed for the bus, still talking. "And watch out for cars on your way back. And don't leave the house!"

I climbed onto the bus, whipping out my phone to text Jess,

_Boys & Srah on thr way bck. xplain rules, & gt ready 4 school. Ur bus lvs in an hr._

Welcome to my abnormal world.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, SmartCars, BMW's, the names of Selena Gomez, Glee, Mariah Carey, the Newsie actors, Pirates of the Caribbean, Lady Gaga, Nicki Minaj, Katy Perry, or Goth belly-dancers. Cat is based off a mixture of my friends, because none actually are at my bus stop, but I wanted to put them all into this fanfic.**

**And before you yell at me for taking forever, consider the following (yes I took that from Bill Nye. ;) don't own that either):**

**My **_**sister**_** was the one who betaed this story. She took forever. Blame her.**

**Cheers!**

**I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can!**

**Luv all of you Fansies!**


	3. Oh, We Have So Much Work To Do

On the bus, I sat with Cat.

As soon as the bus took off and everyone was talking, Cat ordered me, "Okay, Kat, spill,"

So I told her all about the newsies, and my dancing at two in the morning.

This, at least, was something she understood. As a drama queen, she also danced in her room in her pajamas.

She asked questions, lots of them, most of them pertaining to the exact degrees of hotness of the boys, and the exact degree of Mary-Sue-ness from Sarah.

The day passed with difficulty.

No one was really paying attention, and we barely did anything in our classes, because half the world was on vacation already and the other half was daydreaming about vacation.

So instead of paying attention in class, I obsessed over the newsies in my house.

_In my house_.

Oh my god, if they touched my computer I would sue.

I hoped Mike was teaching them the ins and outs of video games and television. We had two TVs, one upstairs and one downstairs. I just hoped that when I got home, they were both still intact.

"Hey wanna come over?" Cat offered as we got off the bus at the end of the day.

"Can't. I gotta get home and persuade my parents to let Cowboy and the gang stay until we can get them home." I said. "I'll call you later, and tell you what happened."

Cat nodded. "And tell Cowboy I said hi," She said slyly. I grinned. Sarah would pitch a fit if she lost Cowboy.

At home, I found Racetrack and Cowboy sitting on the porch, smoking. Our grandfather smoked, so Mike was practiced in the art of kicking someone out of the house when they had a cigarette or cigar in hand.

I stopped in front of them. "You know you have to be eighteen to smoke," I said. I wasn't sure if this was true, but I was sure that you at least weren't allowed to buy them until you were eighteen. "It kills your lungs."

"Like hell," Race told me. "It don't hurt me."

"Bet you have terrible breath, though." I said. "Come on, boys. If you want to stay here, we still need to get my parents' okay, and they're not gonna let you stay if you smoke."

Jack and Race looked at each other. I looked at Race, who sighed and put out his cigar. Cowboy followed suit.

"Good," I said. "Now get ready, clean up and whatnot. My mom'll be here soon,"

I went inside.

Inside wasn't disaster, per say, but it was confusing. The dog came running at me, and I pet him, to avoid accidental murder.

Mike was playing on the computer with Les, who as now dressed in sweatpants and my brother's ALL I DO IS WIN T-shirt. Sarah, true to character, had dug up some old knitting needles from somewhere in my mom's office, and was knitting something with lots of pink. Blink was trying to play with a Nintendo 3D with one eye, something nearly impossible, and I could see no one had bothered to tell him you could switch off the 3D. Mush was watching Star Wars, and that gorgeous face of his? Absolutely glued to the screen.

Conlon had pulled something out of his pocket, and was in the process of polishing his cane.

I put my hands around my mouth. "Boys!" Everyone looked up, except Mike because Mike never let anything distract him from his video games. Cowboy and Race came in behind me. "Boys, whether you stay or don't stay, you need names, because your newsie names are nicknames only."

The boys protested, but I stood firm. This was going to be interesting.

"Cowboy, you get Francis Sullivan," I said with a grin. Sam whined at my feet. "I know, Sammy, but no one who's seen the movie's gonna believe his name is Jack Kelly."

"What mov—"

"Moving on!" I declared briskly. "The Jacobs are taken care of, Sarah, Les, and David." They nodded. "Race, you're now Anthony Higgins. Nice to meet you. Mush, you and Blink need a name."

"What kind of name?" Mush asked.

"I dunno, Mark, Sam, Evan, Tom, Dick, Harry, I dunno, pick something." I said. Mush liked Mark, so his new name was Mark Meyers.

"Blink, you need a first name and a last name," I said. Grinning, I offered, "How about Trey Parker?"

Blink, unsuspecting, decided he liked the name, and I had to excuse myself to flop onto the couch and laugh until my insides hurt.

I turned to the high and mighty King of Brooklyn that sat in a chair with his feet on the dining room table. He looked up from polishing his cane.

"Yeah?" He demanded.

"You need a name, Conlon," I said. "Or you can keep Max if you like,"

"I got a name," He glared. "Spot Conlon,"

"Spot is something you name your dog," I told him bluntly. "Come on, Spot, you need a real name, a real person name. You can use your real name, or a fake name, but you need a name,"

At that moment, Jess got back.

"Hey, Race?" she called. "Can I spot a cig?"

"Shoah," He called back, tossing her the box in which he kept cigars.

"Thanks, Race, darling," She said, and threw it in the trash can.

"!" Race moaned.

"Take a chill pill, Higgins," Jess said, unfazed.

"Spot, pick a name already," I told him.

He yawned and leaned back, completely at ease. He bugged me.

"I'm stickin' wit' Max,"

"Suit yourself," I said, and turned to Jess, "Hey Jess, guess what Blink's name is?"

Her eyes widened. "You didn't!" She accused.

"'Course I did!" I shrieked with newfound mirth, and we both collapsed in laughter.

Everyone stared.

I managed to get up, and I told the newsies, "Guys, there is something I have _got_ to show you,"

Everyone followed me to my laptop.

"Dougie Howser?" Jess guessed.

"Nope," I said, turning my computer on.

"Newsies?"

"Nope,"

"Fanficiton?"

"Nope,"

"Twilight?"

I stared at her. "You don't even _like_ Twilight,"

She shrugged. "Pretty Little Liars?"

"Nope,"

"Modern Family?"

"Nope,"

"Doctor Who?"

"Nope,"

"Torchwood?"

"Nope,"

"Glee?"

"Sort of," I said, and she opened her mouth to protest. She didn't like Glee. I mean, she liked it, but it wasn't her favorite. "Just look."

First, I showed them the Glee version of Run the World (Girls). Sarah looked horrified, and the boys looked horrified. Jess and I laughed.

Then I showed them the original Beyoncé version, and Sarah shrieked, "Lucy!"

"Name's not Lucy, Sarah," I said. "That's my fanfic name. That's what I review and write as. My real name is Kat,"

"But this is completely inappropriate!" She shrieked, and sent Les away.

"Oh, no," I said. "If you want inappropriate, things are about to get much more interesting." Jess and I grinned evilly at each other.

So I typed into the YouTube search engine, _im sexy and I know it lmfao music video_.

I clicked on the VEVO video, and sat back to watch.

Jess and I were on the floor, shrieking and laughing at their stunned expressions.

Sarah gave me a good scolding, and I swear that right then I believed that Mush would always look at me with an expression of horror.

Fuckin' hilarious, I swear.

Then, of course, I had to show them Party Rock Anthem, and Britney Spears songs, and a whole bunch of other things. I decided not to skip the ads, because as I told them, "It's amazing how much of our culture we skip when we skip the ads,"

"Man," Mike said over my shoulder, watching an ad for a Justin Bieber perfume. "Our culture sucks,"

I smacked him upside the head. "It ain't ours, genius," I told him as the next video started. "We're not American,"

"Yeah we are," Jess said.

"I'm not sure being _South_ American counts, Jess," I told her.

"Wait, you're not American?" David asked.

"'Course not," I said. "Je ne suis pas americaine. Je suis colombienne,"

"Then why are you speaking French?" Jess asked me.

"Technicality," I flapped a hand, and Spot shushed me as the next video started.

This one was a particular favorite of Jess's. It was Shakira and Beyoncé's Beautiful Liar.

I swear that Sarah fainted dead away, and Jess and Mike fell over laughing at her. Then, because Jess was Jess, she began doing the belly dancing routine for the song. She had been like, obsessed with it since it came out on Just Dance 3, and had memorized the entire choreography of it. The boys stared at her for a while.

Then the boys sat down, and began yelling out things to type in for a search engine, and it was Blink who suggested I type in stripper. Jess had to slap him.

I knew just what to show them. I looked up Doctor Who funny moments, and for the next half hour, we indulged ourselves with images of the gorgeous Tenth and Eleven Doctors. Well, I did. The boys just moaned for me to look up something else.

God, I love Doctor Who.

Then we watched some videos of 7 year olds dancing to Single Ladies. You should've seen the look on Sarah's face as she watched those little kids dancing in bikinis.

Then the door opened, and the moment I had been dreading was here.

"Aw, crap," I muttered, and I swear, the hamster ran for cover. "Follow my lead," I hissed at the boys and Sarah, and they nodded obediently. Except for Sarah, because I think she was in shock, just from the Run the World song. It was my favorite, personally.

I closed my computer, and I got up and went to my mother. "_Hola_, Mama," I said, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She peered at me.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Mama, you know that thing that Jess and Mike and I have been obsessing over?" I asked,

She nodded. "Newsies? _Esa pelicula con los ninos que bailan?_"

I nodded. **Sorry about my terrible grammar, but my screwy keyboard doesn't type things like the **_**tildes**_** and the thing over the n.** "Yeah, Mama, that. And with the Mary Sue,"

"You know it's a musical?" Jess asked, coming over. She eyed the purse and bag my mom clutched. "Is there more in the car?" she asked.

My mom nodded. "Can you get my computer and the other bag?" She asked, and Jess ran out the door. "They're in the passenger seat," She called after her, and opened the fridge, pulling out a jug of milk. "About the newsies?" She prompted me.

"Mama, _que creeras si los newsies vinieron de la pelicula?_"

She looked at me. "_Has leido Inkheart?_"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, but that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

I gulped. Jess came running back through the door, clutching the computers, which she placed on the counter. Closing the door, she came back to ask me with her eyes, _Have you explained yet?_

I told her back, _About to._

I turned behind me, "You can come out now," I called.

Spot was the first one to come out. My mom stared as the other newsies came. Jack, David, Racetrack, Mush, Blink, Les, and Sarah. Racetrack looked miserable without his cigar.

"_Estoy sonando_," My mom stared at them. "Catalina, _me pasas el telefono?, Tengo que llamar al doctor._"

"Mama, you _are_ a doctor," Mike said, taking advantage of her lack of attention to sneak a marshmallow from the cupboard.

Mama peered at Sarah. "_Esa es la nina que hace los manteliots?_" She asked, and I nodded.

"Yup, she makes the doilies," I confirmed. "Mama, can we keep them?"

This was straight out of a book, and my mom knew it. I guess she thought she was dreaming, or hallucinating, but she was still sane enough to say, "_Por_ _supuesto_ _que_ _no_, _Catalina_," She always called me Catalina instead of Katherine, because that was my name in Spanish.

"Mama, please," I begged. "They stayed here all day, and nothing bad has happened,"

She stared at me. She waved us all to the living room, and we all sat down, and told her the story, from beginning to end.

Being a good person, as well as a mom, she couldn't just turn them away.

However, determined to win the argument, she presented every possible dilemma. Where they would sleep, school, homework, modern changes, accent, style, everything, and we all came up with possible solutions.

Finally, she had no choice but to submit.

"But I have to call your father," She told me and my brother and sister, and she turned to the interlopers. "I'm afraid I'm going to need your names, real and fake."

The introduced themselves, leaving my mom stunned as she walked off, repeatedly slapping her forehead. She told me she was going out, and to talk to my dad. I got the impression she was going to get something for a migraine.

"Why do you speak Spanish?" Les asked me.

"_Porque somos Espanol,_" Mike told him, with an accent.

Technically, no we weren't.

I was born in Colombia, and so was Jess, but Mike was born in the United States. Also, my grandfather was Spanish, so we were a quarter Spanish only, and the rest was Latina, with a bit of U.S. for my brother.

I explained this for the newsies, and I told them,

"We gotta go walk the dog." I raised an eyebrow. "Any volunteers?"

I was stuck walking the dog with Sarah, but I decreed that there would be no computers while I was gone. Instead, my brother could show the boys his video games, and he readily agreed.

I gave Sarah one of my sweaters, and grabbed the dog.

On my way out, I saw Jess take Racetrack aside for a game of poker. I grinned. Mike loved poker, but Jess was the real mastermind.

Walking the dog was interesting.

As soon as we left the house, Sarah jumped into the conversation.

"It's strange how much has changed," She said.

I nodded. "But I think it's for the better. I mean, change is inevitable, right? If we didn't move forward, we'd have to move back,"

She looked at me. "Yes, but shouldn't we move forward in a different direction?" She shuddered. "All those _awful_ things, and _Les_ saw them,"

"Truth be told, I don't think the kid understood most of it," I said. The dog looked up at me with a smile in his eyes.

"How else have things changed?" Mary Sue asked me.

"Well, for one, no one wears dresses anymore,"

"WHAT?"

"I mean, not to school anyway, at least not with leggings, and if they do, they don't wear dresses like you do,"

"NO!"

When we got back, I found that Jess and Mike had taught Les and Mush the words to Waving Flag, and they were singing it at the top of their lungs. The others were grinning and watching the video, trying to learn the words. Apparently, they had ignored the no-computer rule.

"When I get older, I will be stronger," I jumped in immediately, "They'll call me freedom, just like the waving flag, so wave your flag . . ."

But the worst part, Spot Conlon was surfing Fanfiction.

"Spot!" I shrieked. I ran over to see what he was reading. He looked stunned, if a bit amused.

"I didn't know I was gay," He commented, and I saw he was reading one of _those_ fanfics.

"Son of a—" I smacked my forehead.

"What?" The other newsies immediately ran to the computer, and they spent the next hour on the computer, reading fanfics. Turns out, they were all players. Fanfiction seemed to have given them all a million girlfriends . . . and boyfriends. And Sarah seemed to have multiple personalities.

You know, a Mary Sue, a bitch, etc.

So I decided to go and drown my embarrassment in a large glass of chocolate milk.

And then another.

And then a bar of mint chocolate.

And a Hershey Kiss.

And six more.

I like chocolate.

I was sucking on a candy cane when my mother came back.

She had bags and bags of things. Like, six in her left hand alone, and a seemingly infinite number in her right. Yeah, did I mention my mom has like, supermom strength? She carries like, four laptops to work every day, and like, six bags filled with papers. It's scary.

"Jess_, hay mas en el caro_." She told my sister, who nodded, dragging Mike out.

Since I'm the resident fashionista of the family, I grabbed half her bags, and towed them to the couch, where I dumped them.

"Boys!" I called. "Sarah! Get over here, we brought clothes!"

But only Sarah came over, looking disgusted at Fanfiction.

Oooh, this was gonna be fun.

I walked over to the computer, and elbowed my way through the crowd of newsies, and pressed a button that locked the computer.

The newsies immediately protested.

"Clothes, now!" I ordered, and pointed. I grabbed Cowboy and Racetrack each by the ear, and proceeded to tow them to my mother.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow" they complained, and when Jess came back, she dropped her bags and collapsed in laughter at the sight of her sister towing two newsies.

Ah, it was good to be me.

I seized a pair of jeans.

My mother, forever a mom, had labeled every pair of jeans with a Sticky Note. The pair of jeans I held was labeled _Francis_, so I tossed it to Cowboy. One by one, I passed clothes out to every boy.

They peered at us like we were crazy, and we grinned like maniacs.

"Try them on!" I insisted. "Go!" And they left to try on their new torture devices.

"Sarah?" I called, finding something at the bottom of a bag. "Look here." I held it up, then looked at my mother with raised eyebrows.

Jeans. _Skinny jeans_. For _Sarah_.

God, my mom must hate me.

Jess gaped.

"Oh God, we're screwed." She muttered.

Sarah took the skinny jeans from me. "Why don't people wear dresses anymore?" She asked me.

"It's simple." Jess explained. "Because it's stupid." My mom glared at her, and she shrugged. "What? It's true."

God, this was gonna take a while.

So, I told Jess,

"Jess, from now on, _you_ are in charge of converting Sarah into a normal girl." I said, gesturing at her clothes.

Sarah, though, had apparently only heard the word _convert_.

She frowned. "I'm already Christian."

God, this was gonna be annoying.

So, while the boys changed and Jess towed Sarah away, I snatched up the phone, and I dialed a number I knew better than my own.

Cat picked up immediately.

"Katie!" She shrieked into the phone. I held it a foot away from my ear.

"Jesus Christ, Cat." I said when the screech had passed. "Relax."

I sat down, and I told her everything about that day.

"Cool!" She said about a billion times.

Then, the boys came back, and I felt like hugging my mom.

Instead of clothes that would make them look like pharmacists, she had picked out _cool_ clothes.

Example: Cowboy's shirt said, _SPOILER ALERT; the Titanic sank O.o_

Racetrack's read, _No, I'm Just Short_.

Blink's T- shirt was a T-shirt from the Fifa World Cup, but with a picture of an octopus on it, and beneath that it read, _Paul Tells the Future; Bow Before Him!_

Mush's shirt (that hugged his abs) read _Behold My Awesomeness; I Stole It From Taylor Lautner_. (Which, considering his abs, was more appropriate than you'd think)

But my personal favorite was the following, that Spot wore, _Fear the Glare_.

I fell over laughing.

Then, the door to Jess's room opened, and out came Sarah Jacobs, who now looked like a popular.

Bitch.

She wore something out of my closet, a cream tunic, Greek-style, with brown leggings and a belt. Jess had lent her _my_ golden hoop earrings, and my brown newsie cap, and given Cinderella here her own brown combat boots.

The boys, of course, stared, gaped, cheered, and Mike wolf-whistled, something he'd learned from those nutcase friends of his.

Sarah looked down at what she was wearing.

"I feel so. . ." She searched for words.

"Popular?" I muttered.

"Pretty?" My mom suggested.

"Gohgeous?" Race offered, and Jack glared at him.

"Uncomfortable." Sarah finished. Then she looked at the boys, really _looked_ at them. "What are you _wearing_?"

"Clothes." I answered for them. "It's what they wear nowadays."

She looked at me like I was crazy.

Oh, we have so much work to do.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, Vevo, the names of Beyonce, Shakira, Glee, Lmfao, Cinderella, Taylor Lautner, the Fifa World Cup, Sticky Notes, Waving Flag, Nintendo, or Star Wars**

**Claimer: Cat, Jess, my mom, my dad (by mention), Mike, and myself. I also own this computer I'm typing it on. Cuz it's mine.**

**HOPE U LIKED IT!**

**I'm so happy!**

**the other day, i was using my Nook Color in class, and I was on Fanfiction, looking at reviews for this story, and I ran over to my friend and i was like, screaming, "I HAVE FANS! I'M SO HAPPY!"**

**thank you, my fansies!**

**cookies for all!**

**virtual of course**

**but it's the thought that counts**

**:)**

**LUV U!**


	4. Sigh

The Christmas break was really complicated. Basically, my mom spent the entire time running around like a headless chicken. My dad was a bit more relaxed about it all. He calmly informed us that the newsies (and Sarah) were welcome to stay as long as they wanted. With a few major rules.

In addition to all the basic rules that belonged in every household, there were three major rules.

No one who didn't already know about the newsies' origins was allowed to be told. In other words, only the family and Cat knew, and we were keeping it that way.

The newsies were completely responsible for their own actions. Anything happened because of them; their own fault.

Jess, Mike, and I were in charge of educating them.

My dad made these three rules very clear. And then, on Christmas day, we had tacos for lunch.

This was more normal than you'd think. A stereotypical family dinner was out of the question. We were too weird for that.

Our dining room table was weird. If you did something, then undid something else, it extended to accommodate more chairs. That was the only reason there was enough room for all of us.

I don't know why, but for some reason the newsies had never heard of tacos, and neither had the Mary Sue.

"Basically," Jess was explaining when I came down for dinner. "It's meat, cheese, sour cream, lettuce, and a whole bunch of other stuff wrapped up in a tortilla."

"It sounds icky," Les said, earning a smack upside the head by his older brother.

"It tastes great," I added, walking over. "And we add rice to it. You guys'll love it."

"Sound weihd," Spot crossed his arms.

"_You're_ weird," Jess told him. Then Sarah appeared. "Sarah! What are you doing?!" She'd changed back into her 1899 clothes.

"I didn't feel comfortable dressed like a—" she blushed.

"A what?" Jess crossed her arms and looked at her expectantly. "Go on, say it."

"Do," I smiled sweetly. "I'm sure the boys all know what you're talking about, but we don't." I fluttered my eyelashes. "We're innocent girls."

"Innocent, my ass," Spot muttered.

"I'll deal with you later, Conlon," I told him. "Do tell us, Sarah, what Jess dressed you up to look like."

Sarah looked embarrassed. She fiddled with her skirt. "Nothing."

"Oh, but you've brought it up," Jess said. "Now you _have_ to tell us." I looked at her, and I saw she _genuinely_ didn't know. I grinned.

"A slut," Sarah whispered. _Annnnnnnndddd_ cue facepalm.

"What the—? Oh for Pete's sake!" Jess seized Sarah's wrist and began to tug her to my room.

"That was interesting," I said brightly. "Now, who wants tacos?"

Mike began to jump up in down. The boys were less eager, but they agreed that tacos were better than nothing. Except for Spot. He was content with starving if it meant he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to. I told him to stop throwing a tantrum, it was time to eat.

We all sat down at the table, and once we were all served, I was the one to kick off the conversation.

I asked the one question the Newsies fandom wanted to know the most, and probably still does.

"So, boys," I said, and they looked up. "How many girl newsies are there?"

There was silence for a moment.

"_I_ was gonna ask that," Jess murmured.

"Hush up," I told her. "Well, boys?"

"I have no idea," David told me frankly.

"Dat's cuz you're a newbie," Racetrack told him. "No, doll. Hardly any goil newsies. Not in 'Hattan anyhows."

"Three in Brooklyn," Spot reported, examining his taco. "Two of 'em in disguise, as if that'd fool me."

"Theah's s'posedly six in da Bronx," Blink told me, "An' I know foahteen in Staten."

"Queens' got da most," Mush said. "Twenty-six."

"And is there any particular _reason_ that there are so few girl newsies?" Jess prompted. We exchanged glances. No matter the answer, we were going to enjoy this.

Spot shrugged. "Goils is weak," He said bluntly. "Too weak to be newsies."

"Of course," Jess said sarcastically. "That makes sense."

"Don't it?" Spot smirked.

Normally my mom and dad would chime in somewhere around here, but this time they just smiled and waited. I guess they would intervene if it came to blows, but for now they were just enjoying the show.

"Goils can't keep up wid a newsies' life," Mush shrugged. "Too little food, too few comforts."

"Plenty of boys, though," Jess muttered, too low for anyone but me to hear. I choked on my Sprite.

"And it's far too dirty, being a newsie," Sarah added with a smile. "And everything is ten times more difficult."

"Goils is weak," Spot concluded. His eyes bore into mine, daring me to challenge him. "Boys is stronger."

"Oh really?" I heard my voice add sarcastically. "Soon as _you_ give birth, get back to me on that," I smirked. "Boys are always complaining about how girls are fragile as glass. Well guess what, maybe boys are just too tough for their own good."

"But plenty of women die in childbirth," Sarah told me.

"And plenty more live to do it all over again," Jess put in. "Besides, girls can be tough as nails if we want to."

"Really?" Spot drawled. "How?"

"Again," I told him. "Get back to us once you've given birth."

The rest of the meal was spent in heated argument, during which we covered a vast variety of subjects, including (but not limited to) women's rights, computers, the contents of Mike's junkyard of a room, and nuclear physics.

Nah, not nuclear physics. We're too weird for that.

Anyway, after dinner we decided to watch a movie. And it was Jess's turn.

Our living room had a long couch, two armchairs, and a warm rug. Our parents and the dog occupied most of the couch, but there was somehow room left over for Mike, Les, and Sarah to sit on the end. Spot and Jack claimed the armchairs, and the rest of us quickly settled on the rug after retrieving various sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets.

"Is it weird that the dog has priority over us?" Jess said, looking at Sam. He was panting noisily in triumph. He looked very comfortable on the couch.

"Absolutely," I said. "But that's okay."

So, Mike ejected the disk that had previously been in the DVD player (Thor), and put in the one Jess had picked. The worst movie of all.

Titanic.

The boys immediately protested when the menu appeared. The movie seemed to be some sort of romantic shiznit, so it was a natural reaction.

Jess told them to stuff it while I put on English subtitles and pressed play.

Immediately, everyone's eyes were glued to the screen, and we felt it necessary to add commentary every once in a while.

Until a certain moment where Kate pulled out a diamond necklace, and passed it to Jack.

"Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls."

Half the room exploded into laughter as I paused it. Jess and I were immediately on our feet, yelling and shooing Mike and Les out of the room.

"Why do they need to leave?" Sarah demanded as we hauled the kids off the couch.

"Oh, believe me," Jess smirked. "You'll be glad they did."

Once the boys were safely out of the room, I pressed play.

The boys hooted when Kate Winslet came on the screen, naked. My parents laughed and Sarah leapt to her feet, screeching.

"Kat!"

Nobody paid attention to her. As the scene played through and Jess was informing everyone that it was not Leonardo di Caprio who was drawing Rose, but the director, James Cameron, I noticed that Sarah left.

Good riddance, I thought.

Once the movie was over (and the boys gradually stopped talking about that one scene, our mom made popcorn and ice cream for everyone.

The rest of the Christmas break was spent with my mom _still_ running around like a headless chicken. She arranged for the newsies' spots in school, and went shopping frantically.

Only once did she ever manage to draw us, the newsies, and Mary Sue along with her. I guess she figured that Mary Sue could watch the kids, and Jess and I would keep after the newsies.

She was wrong.

It was the Saturday before we went back to school. My mom decided that she didn't want us to stay in the house all day and Internet. (Internet is a verb now.)

So, my mom managed to get us all in the car. We have a minivan, and to me it's amazing we all fit. I took passenger seat, because I am awesome, and Jess, Sarah, and David took the middle. Les sat on Sarah's lap, and Mike sat on Jess's lap. Even though there was no room for four people in the back, we somehow squeezed Jack, Spot, Blink, and Mush into the back. Racetrack decided he'd go in the trunk.

My mom was very big on safety and stuff, but even she had to admit that as long as nobody died, it was a suitable, if uncomfortable, arrangement.

We went to Target, because Target has everything.

Since Jess and I have our own cell phones, we split up. Mom took Mike, Les, Blink, and Mush, because I guess she figured Mush could help with the kids. Blink was mostly along for the ride just because they were heading in the general direction of the video games.

Jess took charge of Sarah and her wardrobe, and David went with them to avoid utter disaster, which left me stuck with Jack, Racetrack, and Spot.

Lovely.

I checked the list my mom had given me. School supplies. Lots of them.

I shoved a red basket at each of the boys, and set off towards the school supplies.

There were maybe four other people in that general area, because most people don't bother to restock on school supplies. They just run out and borrow other people's stuff for the last few weeks of school.

"So," I said, stopping abruptly in an aisle filled with notebooks. "Let's vote. Shall we go to notebooks and folders first, or miscellaneous stuff?"

"What's miscellaneous mean?" Racetrack was rummaging through his jeans' pockets, trying to find a cigar. None.

"The definition is anything that doesn't fit into another of the available categories," I said promptly. "So, where do we go first?"

We decided to go get the smaller things. Pencils, pens, flash drives, and glue sticks.

It was a mistake.

We went through the pencils and stuff alright, until we hit the rack full of flash drives. They were all sorts of cool shapes and figures—from Einstein to R2-D2 to Angry Birds to cows.

The boys began to fight like children over who got which.

"Dibs on the penguin," Jack declared, pouncing on a purple and white penguin flash drive.

"Dibs, my ass," Spot Conlon said, snatching another from the same rack.

"Found a monkey!" Racetrack said from the other side of the rack. "Check it out, dere's a toitle, too!"

Jack and Spot raced around to the other side, and proceeded to fight over who got which flash drive.

I calmly picked out an Albert Einstein one, and then went to calm the children.

"Simple," I said, plucking the flash drives out of their hands. "Jack gets the penguin, Spot gets the turtle, and Race gets the monkey. Done." I handed each boy their own flash drive, and they began to yell at me.

"Aw, shut up," I said, smacking Jack upside the head. I had to reach up about three feet to do it, but it was worth the expression on his face. "Move it, we're going for notebooks now."

Supposedly, my mom had arranged for them to have the same classes as me, at least until the exact extent of their knowledge could be determined. So that meant I was going to have Spot Conlon in a Child Development class, trying to look after a bunch of four-year-olds. The poor kids.

Anyway, that meant that I needed to get them calculators, too, for math. I told them to each pick out five notebooks, and each of their notebooks had to be a different color, and that I'd be right back.

I got the calculators and returned, to find them fighting again.

"What is _with_ you guys?" I demanded. "Seriously!"

"Simple," a little voice in my mind murmured. Spot and Jack, two leaders of different boroughs. Power conflict. Race was just unharmonious and loudmouthed.

"Okay, here's what's gonna happen," I told them swiftly, smacking them each with a spiral notebook. "If you three don't pull yourselves together, I will hang you all from the ceiling by your toenails. Got it?"

The boys, all together, looked at the ceiling. It was _very_ high above them.

Once we had gone through the school supplies, I managed to steer them towards clothes. I got out several screen-printed T-shirts, and pairs of jeans. Shoving clothes into their red baskets, I pushed them into the changing rooms, and waited for them to emerge. Next to the boys' changing rooms were the girls' changing rooms, and I heard a very familiar voice.

". . . hold still, damn it!" I sighed. Jess was being weird again. I went to see what was going on.

Her voice was coming behind a closed door, a changing stall, and I saw two pairs of feet. One was barefoot, and the other pair was clad in sneakers.

"Seriously, Sarah, it's not that hard. One leg, the other, wiggle, wiggle, jump, zip, button. _Not that hard_."

_And_ cue facepalm.

Jess heard me face palm. "Kat, is that you?"

"What are you _doing_ to the poor girl?" I demanded, rapping on the door.

"_Trying_ to get her into jeans!" Jess yelled. "_Not_ working! She's also refusing to buy shorts! She says they're _unacceptable_!"

"They _are_!" Sarah's voice insisted. "I don't know how life is here, but at home we were raised to dress like _women_, not men!"

"As a general rule," Jess told her, "Guys don't wear bras."

I sighed. She was being contrary again. It could take her hours to descend from the lofty attitude she put on when she was pissed.

"Just tell me where David is," I said, "And I'll leave you two to your squabbling."

"I resent that!" Jess yelled over the door. "He's getting more clothes for Sarah. He'll be back in a minute."

I sighed, and returned to wait near the entrance to the boys' changing room.

They emerged, finally, dressed in more modern stuff. I'd gotten them shirts with cool things on them.

Jack's said _IF WE GET CAUGHT IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT._

Racetrack's said _NON-FLAMMABLE? CHALLENGE ACCEPTED._

Spot's was my favorite, because I'm a big Doctor Who fan. It said _not that kind of doctor_.

I grinned broadly. "I love them."

Then Sarah appeared, dressed in skinny jeans, a flowy blue shirt, a big brown belt, and 1 ½ heels.

It was official. Jess had gone full-blown popular style on Sarah.

"Holy . . ." David appeared, nearly dropping a huge pile of clothes.

"Oh, you're back," Jess said cheerfully as the boys gaped at Sarah. I rolled my eyes. Jess went overboard. The jeans didn't need to be so tight. "Good, what did you get?"

David handed the huge pile over to Jess, who promptly dumped it into a nearby shopping cart and proceeded to go through each piece.

"David, what the hell? What is this? This dress is absolutely—ugh! David, did you get a _corset_? Are you _insane_?" She let out an exaggerated sigh.

"I'll watch them," I promised. "You go clean this up."

Jess nodded, disappearing into the clothes.

"What?" David looked at me. "What did I do?"

I sighed.

Well, the shopping trip ended with Jack falling through a wall, Sarah fainting, Spot trying to steal a pair of suspenders, and Les getting lost. Then, adding to all that, my mom had to pay for at least seven things they'd broken.

A very successful trip, all in all.


End file.
